


sweet as sugar

by mellowly



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Banter, Begging, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Food Sex, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Nicknames, Oral Sex, PWP, valve play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 01:02:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17633117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellowly/pseuds/mellowly
Summary: zenyatta isn't quite used to the nicknames yet, but they give him some good ideas.aka jesse mccree is head over heels for an omnic and eats him out on the table.





	sweet as sugar

“Why thanks, sugartits.”

It’s a mindless pet name, a sweet something thrown at the omnic as he sets a plate of sugary, flaky, delicious-looking pie in front of Jesse. The kitchen is filled with the sweet scent of Zenyatta’s baking, a comfortable heaviness to the air that is only amped up by the sight of the monk dressed in nothing but a pair of jeans borrowed from the gunslinger’s closet. His trim metal waist is only further accentuated by the belt pulled tight just above his hips.

He did not expect Zenyatta to steam up a little and nearly drop the coffee cup he had brought over.

“What, did I say somethin’?” He grins broadly, twiddling his fork between nimble fingers.

Zenyatta seems lost for words, staring with the air of someone taken off guard and decidedly flustered. He clears his voice box of useless input, setting the cup down. “I am only recently becoming accustomed to your multitude of nicknames for me,” he explains quietly, “And this one was… Intriguing.”

There’s a touch of excitement in that smooth baritone, and Jesse leans forward, his smile widening into something vaguely carnivorous and craving. He finds that he is not so hungry for just pie after all.

“An’ you’re liking it?”

Zenyatta shifts, turning from him and taking the three short steps back to the kitchen, rummaging for a moment. Jesse wonders vaguely if he’s made him shy, but he’s never seen the omnic be anything close to bashful before. His suspicions are turned on the head when Zenyatta all but saunters back, hips swaying and carrying-

 

Corn syrup. He’s carrying _corn syrup_.

 

“…Darlin’, just what are you planning to do with that?”

“ _Patience_ ,” says Zenyatta, sharp with need, and pushes the plate and cup aside. He is a sight in the morning light, the early rays of sun making him shine as he sits back on the table. His legs are already parted, and Jesse feels his throat go tight.

“I believe that I am about to make your nickname a reality,” he laughs, and then the omnic uncaps the bottle of syrup and pours it down his chassis. It sticks to him in droplets of pure amber and runs down his chest and stomach in streams of deep gold, dripping between his intricate workings and slipping dangerously close to the waistband of Jesse’s too-large jeans.

“My God,” is all Jesse can manage, a little out of breath as he hurries to lean forward and stop the syrup from reaching his belt, licking it off Zenyatta’s warm metal plating. He is rewarded with a sweet taste in his mouth and the sound of Zenyatta’s low moan echoing off the walls, just as sugary. His hands dig into those ample thighs.

It’s so easy to get lost in it. All he knows is the next taste, the next dip of his tongue into the nooks of Zenyatta’s heating body, the sounds that he makes, the way his hips start jerking up when Jesse finds the wires below his upper torso plating and tugs with his teeth.

He’s damn gorgeous already.

“You’ll be the death o’ me some day,” Jesse rasps.

Zenyatta does not immediately reply, trembling fingers busy undoing his belt buckle to shove the jeans down his thighs - Jesse gladly helps, pulling the denim away from where his true prize lies.His hard work has not been in vain, for Zenyatta’s modesty panel has already slipped away. With some pride, he sees just how wet he is, and takes in the full view; Zenyatta, spread open on the kitchen table, gleaming from sugary syrup and Jesse’s mouth, aching and pleading.

“Now then,” he murmurs into the jut of those hips, slipping his hands up behind the omnic’s knees, “I know you’re sweet already, but I’d love some proper sugar for my dessert.”

Without much decorum, he delves in, having his taste of Zenyatta’s saccharine folds, sparing nothing as he holds those hot thighs apart. The omnic arches into him and whines, searching for something to grip onto; his hands find Jesse’s hair and pull, brown strands caught between his desperate fingers.

“Oh- Oh please, _please_ -“

And, God, if having him beg isn’t the cherry on top of it all. To hear that smooth, synthetic voice undone by crackling static and helpless groans is a privilege he cherishes.

Jesse licks and sucks, taking care so nothing is wasted. Zenyatta lies above him on the table and shakes, completely abandoned in his pleasure. He gleams, steaming and writhing, calling out what might’ve been a curse when Jesse lets go of the back of his knee and puts his fingers in him.

“J-esse- _Jess_ \- I- _Ah_ -“

Zenyatta comes hard and fast, as he always does the first time, clenching up and shuddering as Jesse pulls him through it with kisses and kitten licks until his jaw begins hurting and he stops.

The omnic is leaning up on his elbows when Jesse looks at him, still shaking through his aftershocks.

“That was a fine meal, doll,” says Jesse, smiling, probably looking completely stupid. “But I’m still hungry.”


End file.
